For the most part, I’m a pretty rules-y kind of girl.
I like knowing what’s allowed and what’s forbidden, and because I’m naturally compliant, people in authority really don’t have to worry about me falling out of line. If the speed limit says 55, I like to go 55; and, if the sign says “No U-Turn,” then I don’t make a U-Turn. If there is a Do Not Enter sign or No Trespassing warning posted somewhere, I immediately change my direction.
For me, life is simpler that way.
But when it comes to other people — other than my husband, that is — I tend to notice when they are breaking rules or doing things they aren’t supposed to be doing, but I don’t usually get involved in their situation. Now. That’s not to say that I have total control over the facial expressions I make when I’m bearing witness to some rule-breaking! But for the most part, I’m fairly certain that my facial arrangement looks more like worry or concern for that person’s potential consequences than good old fashioned frosty judgment!
I guess I know that is true because, for the most part, unless I have a dog in the fight, I don’t really have a compulsion to mix in — with my words, actions, or face. But I still can’t help but notice when there’s a blatant disregard for a rule everyone else is obeying. And for me, rule-breakers are just making things more difficult for the people around them because now the rules-y people like me are put in this position to judge — even if they don’t want to judge — and I hate that feeling.
But last night, at the Farmer’s Market, it was an actual dog that started to pull me into a fight of sorts — luckily, it was just a mental fight with myself, but still! It was such a cute little dog — she was this fawn-colored teacup Chihuahua who looked like she’d be friends with my “spirit animal” —Juanita, the OCD Chihuahua who lives inside of me — if that were at all possible.
When I noticed her, the little dog was quietly standing in the middle of a semi-circle of people sitting in folding chairs, and she wasn’t even making any attempts to sniff or sneak a cracker from a pile of them sitting on a very low picnic table someone in her group had set up. I watched the little dog for a minute, and I heard someone call her Buttercup — which just seemed like the perfect name for such a cute little blondie like her.
The whole scene should’ve been a sweet observation for me, but in the back of my mind, it was actually quite troubling. You see, there is a very, very strict NO DOGS policy in the Sonoma Square, and every single week, the man who runs the Farmer’s Market makes an announcement about the “no dogs rule.” Plus, there are signs posted at every corner of the square — and my adorable and equally rules-y four-year-old buddy, Everly, likes to read those signs to me every time we pass one when we’re shopping for veggies. And she always sounds super emphatic and bossy when she reads the sign because even at her ages, she knows following the rules keeps people safe!
But Buttercup’s family and friends must’ve believed that the “no dog rule” doesn’t apply to them.
After all, their dog is small enough to hide if the market organizers were to walk by — no harm, no foul.
And, Buttercup is very cute.
Cute dogs and cute people get more breaks when it comes to the rules, right?
Now, it would be one thing if Buttercup’s people were new to the market scene and were just in from out of town or something. But I’ve seen every person in that gathering of humans before because they always sit in the same spot, with the same low picnic table, piled high with snack crackers and open bottles of wine. So ignorance is not an excuse — of that, I’m certain.
So I found myself sitting in my own chair, sipping on a glass of delicious Pinot while this terrible band was absolutely destroying a Linda Ronstadt song. And as the song droned on, I watched little Buttercup, minding her own business, but breaking the rules because, for some reason, her friends and family felt like they were the exception. Buttercup is clearly a good dog, and she isn’t hurting anyone…
And, the “no dog rule” is only in place to keep the bad dogs out of the park, not the good dogs, right?
There was a tiny part of me that hoped Buttercup’s parents would get busted. Maybe that makes me a jerk, and I do feel kind of crummy confessing my real feelings about that right now. But rule-breakers frustrate me. I can see how people justify their actions to disobey a rule they don’t agree with, and I’ve probably got some blind spots of my own in my life when it comes to the pettier kinds of rules that inconvenience me from time to time. I can’t think of any right now, but I’m pretty flawed, so I know there must be an example in my life! But I still prefer to comply with the rules because it just feels like the right thing to do, and Buttercup’s presence was really bothersome to me.
Mind you, I didn’t want to get involved in this situation by getting up and mentioning the Sonoma Square “no dog policy” to the group in passing — because I hate being “that” woman in any setting — and, I didn’t want to tattle on Buttercup’s friends and family either. So all I could do was keep snatching glances at Buttercup and her gathering of rule-snubbing people while the irritation of their disregard for the rules built up in my mind.
Sometimes I feel like I can see the larger issues at play in the smaller issues, and when it comes to the idea that “the rules only apply to other people” — who have ugly or maybe hyper dogs — that kind of sentiment feels incredibly pervasive to me in the culture in which I live. I recently blogged about how the definition of words isn’t as precise as they used to be, and so people in the world around me at least seem to be in this constant conversation that’s trying to make everything more open and more “fluid” — in many ways, not just the one.
I live in a part of the country where certain rules bend more than others, I guess, which makes things confusing for me most of the time…
I wish it didn’t bother me so much that Buttercup’s friends and family were breaking the park rules, mostly because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my feelings. I don’t know if I can fully engage in the “brother’s keeper” kind of sentiment anymore because, at the end of the day, I don’t always feel like we see each other as loving or concerned siblings in this world anymore. And the fact that I felt so irritated about the whole thing makes me question any motivation I would’ve had if I decided to get involved — just to be clear. I don’t think my heart was all warm and loving toward Buttercup’s friends and family — even though I can assure you it wasn’t filled with hate or anything like that! Just simple annoyance…
Ugh. Now I’m just babbling…
But in my observations at least, there are a lot of “rules only apply to some people” conversations going on around me in our country at any given time! And, to be totally fair, I’m even the kind of person who can sometimes see the exceptional circumstances in someone’s story that makes me believe the weight a given rule might be too crushing at times — even though I sincerely believe that rules should always apply.
So what do I do? I already know that as far as it goes with me and how I live my life, I’ll follow the rules to the best of my ability. But when it comes to the world around me? Well. If I do decide to venture in one day for some compelling reason…
